


Sketches

by wildmcu



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Kinda, M/M, both steve and bucky are avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 09:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15838308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildmcu/pseuds/wildmcu
Summary: “What’s your inspiration for these drawings?”“I draw things I find fascinating or pretty.”“Oh..”Or the one in which it seems Steve wants to draw anyone and anything. Besides Bucky.





	Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> hi soooo this is based off a tweet i found, here’s the link lol 
> 
> https://twitter.com/stuckywyou/status/1034225293748105221?s=21

Bucky tried his hardest not to be jealous. But there were times he couldn’t help it. 

Both him and Steve were sat on the couch in their section of the Avengers tower. A movie was playing but they weren’t watching. Well, Bucky was watching something but it wasn’t the movie. He watched as Steve’s pencil moved across the paper, shading in Natasha’s cheekbones. 

Steve had sketched her earlier while they had been hanging out, and now he was adding in more details. And Bucky sat and watched. 

Here’s where the jealousy came in: Bucky has sat by and watched as Steve has drawn all of the Avengers team, most of them multiple times. He watches as Steve draws plants or landscapes or buildings or just random doodles. 

But he’s never drawn Bucky. There’s been times when Steve lets Bucky look through his sketchbooks too. And the drawings are beautiful, as they always had been, but none were of Bucky, despite how badly he wanted his boyfriend to draw him. 

“What’s your inspiration with these drawings?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve’s brows furrow together but he doesn’t stop his shading. He’s moved on to Nat’s lips now. 

“What do you mean?” he replies quietly. 

“Like.. why do you draw what you draw?” 

Steve stops and erasing a bit that’s gone outside the lines before shrugging. 

“I draw what I find fascinating. Or even just pretty things,” Steve says. And while Bucky doesn’t show it, the comment hurts a little. In a sense, he can’t help but feel insecure too. Did Steve not find him attractive? Maybe it was the metal arm, or his longer hair... or both? Regardless, he couldn’t help but shrink back a little. 

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Makes sense.”

He watched Steve’s hand pause momentarily, before continuing his shading. In the end, Bucky ends up falling asleep on Steve’s shoulder as he adds the shading to Natasha’s hair and eyes. Once Steve closes his book, Bucky’s eyes open slowly, the movement from Steve’s arms waking him. 

Sleepily, he lifts his head and looks over to his boyfriend. 

“Hi,” he says tiredly, with a small smile. 

“Hi there,” Steve whispers, looking over how adorable Bucky looks in his sluggish state. “Tired? It’s kinda late, c’mon Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t resist the way Steve nearly carries him to bed, helping him lay down and everything. It doesn’t take long at all until he’s knocked out completely. 

When he wakes up, Bucky is the only one left in bed, but he’s used to that, since Steve doesn’t usually come back to bed after his morning run. His feet carry him to the bathroom first, allowing him to brush his teeth. His boyfriend never minds his morning breath, yet Bucky can’t stand it on himself. And then, Bucky finds Steve on the couch, with a sketchbook in hand. From what he can see, it looks like a rough sketch of Sam, likely from memory from their run. 

“Good morning,” Bucky says quietly. He walks up behind the couch and leans down to wrap his arm around Steve’s shoulder and kissing his cheek, although he made the small effort to keep his metal arm at his side. “Is that Sam from this morning?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums. “I kicked his ass, as usual, and when we sat down to breathe, I don’t know, the lighting was nice and I’m trying capture it from memory but it doesn’t look that great..”

“Yes it does! All of your drawings look nice baby,” Bucky argues, throwing in the pet name knowing it’ll make Steve flush with color, which he does. 

“Thank you,” he replies with a smile, leaning his head back, allowing Bucky to kiss him directly on the lips. 

After, he walks back around the couch and sits on the opposite side so he can attempt to steal looks at Steve when he isn’t paying attention. Bucky spends a solid 4 minutes looking for the TV remote, only for it to be under his ass, making Steve nearly mess up his drawing from laughing. 

At one point, the secret glances are revealed as not so secret when Steve says, “Take a picture, it would last longer.”

At the beginning of their relationship, when it started only six months ago, Bucky would’ve been embarrassed to have been caught, but now he just smiles. 

“Why have a picture when I could have the real thing?” he shoots back, making Steve shake his head with a smile. He then watches as Bucky’s eyes flick down to the drawing, his smile dropping a little before looking back at the TV quickly. It was such a quick movement that no one else would’ve caught it, but of course Steve did. 

“I’ll be right back,” Steve says, setting down the sketchbook and standing, exiting the room quickly. Bucky hesitates for a second before reaching over to grab the sketchbook. He turns back a page to find the drawing of Natasha finished and looking as beautiful as the real person. Before that is one of Tony, then before that are a few loose sketches of dogs from the park they saw. And more and more of the Avengers and animals and everything else. Bucky finds drawings of seemingly everything. 

Besides himself. 

He hears Steve walking back towards the room so he flips back to the page of Sam, wiping the sad look off his face before tossing the book back near its original spot. He returns his attention to the TV as Steve walks back into the room. 

And drops about 8 sketchbooks of varying sizes and quality. 

“What are these..?” Bucky asks, looking at them. Steve takes his seat again and looks over at him, silent. 

The smallest one on top was clearly the oldest as well. It was a tan leather, the spine torn up a bit. Bucky instantly recognized it as one of the few Steve owned in Brooklyn, before the war. On the front cover of each, there was a date. 

“Is the date when you got it?” he asked, looking back up at Steve, receiving a nod in reply. The dates on the books scattered from before the war to recently, although there were only two from before. The most recent one was bought only a month ago. 

“Each book only lasts me a couple of months,” Steve said quietly. “Open one.”

Bucky picked up the oldest one, opening to the first page. 

And he saw himself. 

Page after page after page, Bucky found sketches of him. Sitting, standing, sleeping, smiling, a few of him crying too. He could tell those were from memory, as there was always a certain roughness to the ones done from memory that Steve still had today. 

_”Oh,”_ Bucky said after he close the last page, though Steve ushered him to continue looking. 

He went through book after book. At some point, they became consistent in shape and color, just being a medium sized, black sketchbook with a spiral wire spine. Bucky continued to check the dates to keep them in order. And for the most part, each drawing had a date and Steve’s signature. 

Bucky almost wanted to cry. 

Occasionally he came across pages that only had sketch of his metal arm. There were tons of pages that singled out some features but the ones for his arm struck him the most. He came across some the focused on his jaw, before and after the beard. His eyes, lips, hair, hands, chest, back. Steve had taken individual parts of his body and drawn them into beauty. So much so, Bucky was nearly gaining confidence in himself just by looking at the drawings. 

He was on the third to last book. As he began flipping through, he stopped on a certain page when his eyes flicked to the date. They anniversary. 

The picture, done from memory, was of Bucky on the couch, and though it was pencil, he could tell he was blushing. It was the moment they confess their feelings, and how they had both been quietly pining over one another since the 1920s. Under the date and the signature were a few words. 

_Our day, I love you_

And then Bucky did tear up. He kept flipping, seeing that now many pages had little descriptions or words on each page. Things like _first real date, you’re cute when you blush,_ and Bucky’s personal favorite that he saw repeated: _I love you punk._

He kept going, willing himself not to cry but letting the smile stay on his face. In the final book, there were only maybe 10 pages left. The most recent one was dated yesterday and it showed Bucky, completely asleep in their bed. It was from last night after Steve had essentially carried Bucky to bed. The words under read _I love sleeping next to you._

“I thought you just never wanted to draw me,” Bucky whispered. Steve shifted so he was closer, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend's waist. 

“More like I never wanna stop drawing you,” Steve replied, turning his body to throw his legs over Bucky’s and tucking his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. “You’re so pretty, I can’t stop drawing you. But.. I know you get insecure with how you look, although I don’t think you should because you’re perfect, so I always drew you when you weren’t paying attention. I figured you wouldn’t wanna model for me anyways.”

“When..” Bucky hesitates, not even sure if he wants to admit this. “When you said you draw things you find fascinating or pretty, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe you.. didn’t think I was.. pretty or attractive or whatever.”

Steve lifted his head to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Buck, you’re the most beautiful person I know. I’m sorry I made it seem like I thought otherwise. You’re so pretty and beautiful and gorgeous and perfect and I love you.” He had practically moved into Bucky’s lap by now. “I love you so much,” he mumbled, before kissing Bucky softly. He then smiled, a hint of mischievous in his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, Bucky looking at him in wonder and curiosity. “How about you take this,” he paused to run his finger along the inside of the collar of Bucky’s shirt, “off and model for me?”

And Bucky’s eyes lit up at the request, he couldn’t take his shirt off fast enough.


End file.
